


Amorphous

by kiafeles



Series: Kindred Spirits and Troubled Minds [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Keith, Angst, Character Study, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, minor OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7736770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiafeles/pseuds/kiafeles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I would like to see if the castle can map your DNA. It would make the healing process smoother, especially if…” She swallows, and despite her words, her gaze on Lance does not waver. “Especially if quintessence is involved. It appears my father did not fully explain the mechanics of the lions to me, so I would like to have a better understanding of how your bodies work in the event that something backfires.”</p><p>-</p><p>Allura strives to help her paladins in any way she can, and Keith struggles to belong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amorphous

**Author's Note:**

> So I didn't write the first fic in this series with the intention of continuing it, but I thought it would be fun to explore this universe some more. It's structured a bit differently than Ubiquitous but I wanted to examine Allura and Keith and this is what came from it. I hope you enjoy!

Keith does not remember his early life, but his past is as set in stone as any other.

 

He doesn’t remember the falling fire, a metal deathtrap hurtling towards earth, disguised to everyday viewers by their own ignorance as a majestic rock from space. Brought to earth in fire, he finds his first moments engulfed in its blaze, a forewarning sign of his future in the red lion, surrounded by the fire of the spiritual and the weaponized.

 

The metal death trap falls to earth carrying its mixed inhabitants. The fire burns and it takes, engulfing the life of those in its cage and marring the land with its deadly carnage.

 

A cry goes out, of one spared by the fire. The flames lick around this child but do not touch him. His life is free of its touch for now, but his futures resides in the dying embers.

 

A rushed figure approaches him and picks him up from the ashes. The figure cradles the child in her arms, looking in awe at the carnage of the alien craft around her. She saw it fall, ran to the crash site, and discovered none other than a baby amid the rubble.

 

The baby is purple and small, but not of malnutrition or sickness. His tears make small tracks through the fur on his face, darkening his features and highlighting the strange markings on his cheeks. The tufted ears and soft claws are equally as indicative of his heritage, although the human does not realize it.

 

Nevertheless, it is distinctly humanoid.

 

 _It is not human_ , she realizes. _He is not human_ , she corrects.

 

But he is innocent, and he is in need.

 

Keith does not remember it, but the night he arrived on earth was filled with death and destruction, but also of change.

 

The human woman who finds him takes the alien baby home.

 

-

 

“Take it back!”

 

“He’s defenseless. Nothing else survived!”

 

“It isn’t _human_! You don’t know what that thing could do. Get rid of it!”

 

“He has a life. He’s as deserving of it as anyone else is. Just because he’s an alien doesn’t mean—”

 

The baby does not understand these words, spoken by two beings that do not resemble him and that cannot hope to comprehend his past.

 

He breaks out into tears once more when the sounds of shouting erupt from outside. The woman shushes him and he quiets, urged by a sort of adrenaline that hushes children in the most effective of manners. It’s instinctual. Quiet means self-preservation. Like a rodent beneath a sky of vultures, the baby remains mute, waiting to be picked off.

 

Sounds and sights assault him as he waits silently but the most prominent sense is that of encroaching darkness. The woman places him beneath the floorboards of the couple’s home, and the baby remains privy only to the sounds of soldiers’ footsteps pounding above him. They shout and demand, but they do not receive the answer they desire.

 

When it finally falls quiet, he waits, for hours and hours. In the darkness and silence, he gives in to the paltry emotions of a child and he cries, he screams, he wishes for the protection that all children yearn for in their base understanding of the world.

 

He does not belong. He cannot say it in so many words, but he does not belong.

 

The first step to belonging, however, is matching the expected. He takes the images of those life forms who first saw him and he changes. He will blend and he will find order in this chaos.

 

When a different human finds him hours later, they find a human baby, but they do not find a human couple. The human cries and cries and the baby joins them, but this human does not understand where their friends have gone, and why a small, unclaimed baby remains in their place.

 

The child is taken to an orphanage and the crash site is never found by another normal citizen.

 

It was a meteor, the news says. A rock fell from the sky wreathed in fire. No human found a child in the desert, covered in the bodies of dead foreigners turned to ash by rolling flame. No one took anything home. And no one disappeared from their home, taken by authorities who wished to hide the evidence, to hide the existence of living creatures that do not belong on earth.

 

The lies are told as truth and accepted as such, and no one questions just another unwanted boy in another dilapidated orphanage. He blends and adapts, and the memories of his beginnings never surface.

 

When he comes to the age where he can decide his future, he aims for the stars. He says it is because the idea of the grand distance enthralls him. He has never been able to move forward and certainly cannot move back, so why not up?

 

As a young human boy, Keith applies to be a pilot. When he reaches the Garrison, his life continues, unassuming and alone.

 

Fate simply decides that backwards and up is a suitable direction for him.

 

-

 

Years later, Allura worries about her paladins.

 

The worry is a steady thrum in the back of her head, but it is a welcome one. She enjoys the happiness of their friendship, enjoys the feeling of family that has settled around them, but she still worries.

 

She already lost her first family when Altea burned. She does not wish to lose another one.

 

So when the team has finally recovered from the recent attack, when Lance no longer rubs at his neck absently, when Keith no longer looks upon Lance’s sword with obvious fear, when Pidge finally feels satisfied with her adjustments on Shiro’s arm, and when Hunk finally smiles without that undercurrent of concern, she comes prepared with a request.

 

“I would like the keep your biological information on record.”

 

It is Lance who first questions her. “Don’t you already have that? How else do the healing pods work?”

 

She, Shiro, and Coran are standing in the control room, but Lance is lying down on the floor beneath them. Allura examines his relaxed position and notices that in his hands is his bayard, which he had been twirling and examining above him before Allura spoke. It only takes a nudge from Shiro’s foot for him to scramble to his feet.

 

“We have basic information,” Coran cuts in to explain. “Blood types, a knowledge of human anatomy, all the essentials for the pods to function on you all. But none of the nitty gritty.” He twists his moustache in thought. “Like one of those carnivorous beasts from the planet—”

 

“Okay, okay we get it,” Lance interrupts before Coran can delve too deep into one of his galactic metaphors. “You want, what, more detailed stuff?”

 

“I would like to see if the castle can map your DNA. It would make the healing process smoother, especially if…” She swallows, and despite her words, her gaze on Lance does not waver. “Especially if quintessence is involved. It appears my father did not fully explain the mechanics of the lions to me, so I would like to have a better understanding of how your bodies work in the event that something backfires.”

 

Lance waves his free hand, the other still in possession of his bayard. “So we don’t stay cooped up in that thing longer than we need to, I get it.”

 

“Is it safe?” Shiro finally speaks up, his brows drawn in apprehension. “Having that information on file, I mean. What if the Galra ever access it? They probably already have—”

 

He cuts himself off. They are all by now aware that Shiro underwent more than his fair share of intrusive examinations while imprisoned with the Galra. It is likely they already have all of his information in their own databanks, but no one mentions it.

 

Shiro clears his throat at the pause and addresses the other three again.

 

“I’m just worried that the information is a bit too personal. Even if it can help.”

 

Shiro looks pained as he meets Lance’s eyes, but the boy simply gives him a reassuring thumbs up. Allura knows that Shiro must feel guilty for giving a negative response to what could change cases like that of Lance’s last trip to the pod, when he had been unconscious far longer than he needed to, but the boy seems accepting of his explanation. The biological information that Allura can record could certainly make healing quicker, and Lance seems to understand said benefits, but he reads Shiro’s concern loud and clear.

 

“If Shiro says no,” Lance finally says, “then I’m with him.”

 

It’s amazing how much she can pick up from the castle’s other inhabitants after all the time they have spent together.

 

Nevertheless, she juts her chin out and speaks her mind. “I think it’s valuable to have, but I can understand your reservations.”

 

In truth, she questioned requesting the information herself. Biological information of that specificity is far too personal and dangerous to have floating around, and she dithered for many days on whether or not to even bring up the option. After Lance’s fiasco with the lizard people, however, and the newfound discovery of his connection to the lions, Allura has finally gained the courage to ask it of her paladins.

 

“Ah, if I can interject,” Coran lifts a finger as he speaks, “I propose an alternate solution. We keep the information for as long as it takes to reprogram the pods a bit, spice up the mainframe, and then delete everything else. It won’t be as specific if we don’t program it for every one of you individually, but we can still tweak the system up a bit.”

 

Allura nods. “That is also an option.”

 

“So it’s accuracy or confidentiality, huh?” Lance places a hand beneath his chin in a thoughtful gesture, but the image is ruined when he raises a brow comically. He laughs at Allura’s unamused look and shrugs. “Eh, I’ll still go with no.” Yawning, he stretches and steps past Coran and Allura towards the exit. “Let me know what the others think. I need some Zs.”

 

Shiro waits until Lance has left before speaking again. “If you can improve the healing pods without keeping the information on file, I’m more willing to consider it.” _For Lance’s sake, and for anyone else who undergoes something similar_  remains unsaid.

 

“I will discuss it with the other paladins as well. They deserve an opinion on the matter, but I wanted to let you all think on it before making the formal request at dinner.”

 

“Of course,” he says somewhat irritably, but he departs amiably enough, and Allura sighs.

 

Later that night, the consensus comes back positive. Pidge agrees simply because she wants to look at the data herself, Hunk considers it invasive but helpful to have in case of any further emergencies, and Keith gives a terse, one-worded response of approval. Lance remains on Shiro’s side throughout the entire discussion, but when Shiro finally relents and allows for the modified plan, the group parts in agreement.

 

On the conditions that the information is deleted as soon as possible, Allura and Coran have free reign to the humans’ DNA in their quest to improve the outdated healing pods.

 

Allura considers it a wise choice, despite the implications. She’s prepared to learn much about her paladins, and with this knowledge, she can do even better to protect them from that which threatens them harm.

 

She tests them after dinner, draws blood and tissues, scans the paladins with ancient sensors, and the castle responds with a healthy hum.

 

She believes in means to an end, and as she waits for the computer to compile the data, she hopes these means will provide the end that she desires.

 

-

 

Keith has never been inside one of the healing pods, and Allura silently thanks the fates for it.

 

For obvious reasons, it means that Keith has not yet received injuries that require him to rest within the pod’s coat of artificial darkness.

 

For less obvious reasons, it means that her current revelation is not witnessed by the group as a whole.

 

Allura thinks that it’s probably better that way.

 

Coran has already gone to bed, resigned to waiting until morning to start working, but Allura chooses to stay behind and wait late into the night for the predicted ding that means the results are finished. When asked why she’s sacrificing sleep over something she can just leave for the next day, she responds ambivalently. A small feeling has worked its way into her gut and it’s this unease that propels her to stay.

 

It is this same unease that blooms into abject shock when she see Keith’s results, outlined in blocky Altean script on her monitor.

 

The horror is marked by a tinge of hope, but she cannot focus on that, for the revelation is too grand, too mixed.

 

Keith is half Galran and half Altean.

 

Had Keith entered a pod before now, everyone would have certainly found out. The pod would spit out numbers that match the Galran information on file, and everyone would have erupted in a storm of confusion and disbelief.

 

Allura can feel the negative emotions stirring deep in her being. Her soul is colored with healthy portions of love and hate, and often the two intermingle in unfavorable ways. Allura cannot blame Keith for his heritage. He is no different now than he ever was, and she struggles to push down any undue resentment.

 

Keith has done nothing to deserve her scorn, and any battle scars that she possesses are hers alone to deal with.

 

She uses a technique her father had taught her when she was very young, after a fight with a close friend, and breathes.

 

“ _See the stars, Allura? Each one of them is a feeling. You are made up of stars as well. Let only the ones you love shine brightest_.”

 

The metaphor was strange even then, but Allura has never forgotten, and seeks it for comfort now.

 

She takes those feelings that protect her—love, happiness, companionship—and lets them shine the brightest. She takes those feelings that hurt her—bitterness, fear, and disgust—and lets them fizzle out and dim.

 

The beeping of the console and her steady breathing bring her back from the memory, and she starts when she reads Keith’s name once more on the screen.

 

And that is when she begins to question.

 

Does he know off his heritage? Does he know what it could mean, that someone so young is born of Alteans? Allura considers it, her fingers going white as she grips the screen and rereads the data, over and over.

 

No, she decides, he must not know. He would have said something to Allura the first day they met, certainly, if he knew of his Altean heritage.

 

 _This means that some Alteans must still be living_ , she concludes, suddenly giddy. _How else could Keith be so young?_

 

It’s equal parts exciting and frightening, and Allura feels her eyes tearing up as she considers the implications.

 

The hope comes crashing down as reality hits her, sharp and burning. She has to tell Keith. He deserves to know his own identity, as controversial as it may be.

 

It is this thought that brings Allura to a standstill. The information flickers on the monitor in front of her and she considers leaving it, but she knows.

 

The team is expected to come the next morning and go over their results. If Allura leaves it on the computer, then Coran will inevitably see it, and with every other paladin there to see their own results as well, the reveal would be as obvious as painting the words ‘Galra child’ to Keith’s forehead.

 

This revelation is Keith’s to tell alone, and not even Coran, who can read the information with the most ease, should be able to see it before Keith does. Allura herself is intruding, even if it is by accident.

 

She can’t keep this information on the main computer.

 

With more speed than she gives herself credit for, she whips out a mobile device from beneath the console—it resembles a tablet, she heard Pidge once say—and begins transferring the information. When it is all fully downloaded to the mobile device, she wipes it completely from the main computer.

 

And as soon as Keith understands what Allura knows, she will wipe it from the mobile device as well.

 

Device in hand and knowledge stewing in her consciousness, she sets off to find Keith in the castle. Knowing him, he won’t be sleeping.

 

-

 

She finds Keith in the control room with Shiro, staring out the windows at the span of stars that wrap around the ship. They’re in the midst of a hushed conversation when she approaches, so she gives a small cough to warn them of her presence.

 

The conversation stops as they turn to greet her, and she is equal parts relieved and guilty at the peaceful expressions on their faces. Clutching the device to her chest, she regards them with the best smile she can muster.

 

“Shiro, Keith, what are you two still doing up?”

 

“I could ask the same of you, Princess,” Shiro says, chuckling. “But you’re right. We shouldn’t be loitering here.” He reaches to Keith’s head with one arm as if to ruffle his hair, but Keith deftly dodges the touch, rolling his eyes.

 

Watching her paladins being so affectionate to each other, Allura feels a bit of remorse at what she is about to do. She knows she means the best, and that knowing the truth should help Keith in the long run, but she still worries. The balance that Keith and Shiro have is rooted in years of friendship and trust, and to shake this trust with a revelation so immense is a deadly power. Their bond is strong and not easily severed, but she understands that she needs to tread lightly with such a touchy topic.

 

“My father always used to tell me that sleep makes the strong paladin stronger.” She almost catches herself on her own words, cursing that she brings up her father now of all times, but she schools her expression. No need to worry the pair prematurely.

 

Shiro eyebrows quirk slightly at her comment, but she continues before he can respond.

 

“But actually, Keith, I wanted to talk with you about something, before you head to bed.”

 

The three lapse into an awkward silence, and it takes Shiro a few ticks before he blinks sheepishly and steps away.

 

“I—I’ll just go to bed then. Goodnight, Allura. Goodnight, Mr. Kogane.”

 

Allura doesn’t understand the joke, but Keith obviously does, and it’s his flustered response that breaks the tepid mood.

 

“Shut up,” he mutters, his cheeks reddening as Shiro chuckles and finally departs.

 

“What was that?” Allura questions, barely keeping her own smile in check.

 

“Nothing,” Keith says, crossing his arms. He’s trying to maintain his stoicism, ever the one to keep up the ‘cool guy’ act, but Allura wishes for him to just let go and laugh freely for once. She’s seen it in the past and it warms her heart whenever he feels comfortable enough to just _be_ , but she knows that now is not the best time to expect that reaction.

 

She’s about to drop a bombshell, and she doesn’t expect Keith to take it well.

 

“So, uh, what did you need? Is it about the tests?” Keith finally says, when it becomes pointedly apparent that Allura is struggling to start.

 

“Actually, it is.” She swallows hard, bringing the device out in front of her. She taps her fingers on its surface, pulling up the required information, and takes a deep breath, steeling herself.

 

“When the results came in, I discovered something...strange.”

 

“Strange?” Keith’s expression becomes suddenly guarded, and Allura hates what she is about to say immensely.

 

She knows deep in her heart that telling him is for the best, but she can’t help but feel remorse for driving away Keith’s soft smile.

 

Now, or never, she tells herself. Better to go in headfirst. Keith is strong, she knows, and practical. He wouldn’t want something this important delivered any other way.

 

“The results of your DNA scan reveal that you are not in fact human. You are half Galran and half Altean.”

 

She sees the fire in his eyes long before she hears it in his voice.

 

“Is this a joke?”

 

“I wouldn’t joke about something as serious as this.”

 

Keith knows Allura, and he knows how passionately she feels about the Alteans and Galra alike, but Allura knows Keith, and she knows that while he may act the loner part, he doesn’t wish to perpetrate it with such force.

 

Adding the epithet ‘alien spawn’ to his list of defining features can only isolate him further, at the very time when he feels most vulnerable and open to his fellow teammates. Allura knows she has to make sure his train of thought doesn’t delve into the macabre.

 

“What the hell, Allura? I’m part _Galra?_ ”

 

“And Altean!” she chimes, but immediately regrets it. Splitting Keith up into multiple facets would serve only to worsen his understanding of the situation. He needs to accept _all_  parts of himself in order to appreciate himself for who he is.

 

Allura needs to accept all parts of him as well. She can only hope that in guiding Keith through his inner turmoil, she can resolve her own with equal strength.

 

“I don’t even—I look human, Allura. There’s no reason I could be Galra!”

 

His voices rises in a combination of panic and anger, and Allura flinches. She knows she would get an emotional response from him, and it pains her to see him react as such.

 

“You’re Altean half is most likely what’s keeping you in this state. You probably imprinted at a young age—”

 

“Don’t talk about it like I’m some animal that just learned how to blend in.”

 

“Keith—”

 

“Why would I have even been on earth then? Why would I be there if I’m one of _them_?”

 

“Keith.”

 

“I am _not_  one of them Allura. I’m not.”

 

“Keith!” she grips one of his shaking hands with her own. “Stop. Listen to me, please.”

 

He stares at her and swallows, his breaths shallow and unsteady.

 

“You may be part Galra, and you may be part Altean, but neither of those define you.”

 

“Bullshit. You of all people—”

 

“ _Listen_  to me,” she demands again, and he falls silent, anger fading into a more foreign sense of trepidation. “Just because your body is constructed differently doesn’t mean you are any different. You’ve always had this body, and it’s never before affected the course of your actions.”

 

She planned to show him the actual medical results of the test, but she finds that words are far more comforting than cold data. Setting the device down on the nearby counter, she grips both of Keith’s hands in her own. Keith doesn’t resist the contact.

 

“But...the Galra destroyed your entire race. How could you forgive me for that?”

 

Keith’s eyes are misty at this point, and Allura’s own likely match them. Allura is strong enough to admit that she is a crier, but Keith has never been. To see him so shaken gives her mixed emotions. The first is that of a tentative pride. She is proud of Keith. Proud that he feels so strongly about Voltron and the mission that life has given him, proud that he cares so much as to fear for Allura’s safety, and proud that he’s finally letting his emotions be seen. But she is also worried for him. He is her paladin, her friend, and dare she say it, he is like a brother.

 

He is like a brother, Galra or not.

 

She grips Keith tight and hopes to breathe all of these emotions into him.

 

“ _Zarkon_ destroyed Altea. _Keith_ did not.”

 

Keith clenches his jaw and remains tensed. Allura knows she must look deep within her to find the words for what she wishes to say next.

 

For the course of Allura’s life, she had grown up in fear of the Galra. They killed her mother and attacked her planet, and she was raised with the awareness that she too might need to kill in order to preserve the peace and happiness which she desired.

 

But it was not always this way. Long before Allura was born, the universe was a very different place.

 

At one point, Zarkon was the black paladin. At one point, Alfor was the yellow paladin. At one point, the two made up a family of mixed races, a collection of those with the same peaceful goal. At one point, they lived for each other and promised to die for each other, giving and taking in the harmony of shared responsibilities and shared minds.

 

But, like all that fall to entropy, the family rotted and died. It decayed beneath issues of miscommunication, to the strife of war and the temptation of greed, and they fragmented. By the time Voltron was reconstructed, the harmony it once represented had shattered.

 

Allura does not wish to see her family fall apart like her father’s. And she does not wish Keith to feel that he is an abomination simple for _being_ , because war and identity are not so black and white.

 

“It’s often tough to remember, and it’s not an opinion that many would favor, but it is true. We often forget, in the wake of Zarkon’s awful war, that the Galra were the first race to be enslaved beneath his regime.”

 

Her father’s words come to her suddenly, clear as if he had said them to her only that morning.

 

“You are a product of your people, but your people are wide and diverse.”

 

Allura is a product of Altea, and while she grieves for it, misses the warm family of her birth, she realizes that fate can be cruel, but not ultimately so. She—and Keith—have a new family now, but it does not define them. One set of cultural values, a shared consensus, a group mentality, cannot explain the infinite range of emotions, the untouchable thoughts, and the limitless imagination of an individual.

 

She lets go of Keith’s hands and cups his face.

 

“Allura…” he chokes, holding back his sobs. She’s never seen him so distraught, and she figures he himself has never seen the sight either.

 

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, rubbing her thumbs on the tear tracks of his face. She continues whispering soft nothings to him as the pair melt into the peaceful atmosphere of the empty control room, and as Keith lies down, Allura sits beside him. His head rests in her lap and she runs gentle fingers through his hair, and an indefinite amount of time passes before Keith finally speaks up.

 

“How am I half Altean?” he asks, but the words are tinted less with his previous horror. Instead, they are colored red with curiosity.

 

“I don’t know,” she admits. Dare she get her hopes up? “Perhaps there is a group of them alive out there somewhere, hiding from Zarkon’s control.”

 

“But that was years ago.” He coughs. “When I...when I must have come to earth. How can we be sure that any are still alive?”

 

“You’re alive.”

 

“Yeah, but—”

 

“You have to hold out hope on something like this, Keith. If you being alive means there is a chance to bring Altea back, in any form, even if that chance is slight, then I will not hesitate to act on it.”

 

Keith’s own philosophy stares him in the face and he falls silent, biting his lip.

 

“You’re right.”

 

This is where Allura sees both their similarities and their differences. They both see the logic behind certain choices and actions. Allura had sacrificed herself for Shiro when given the chance that he could escape, leading to her capture before the wormhole incident. Keith had prepared to sacrifice himself for the team to take down Zarkon one on one when the opportunity presented itself, even if the chance was slight. It was reckless, but in Keith’s eyes, it was logical. Allura can see those slight chances, those illogically logical predictions, and can grasp them. Keith can see them too. He sees all that is and chooses that which provides the most reasonable and pragmatic benefit, and Allura respects that.

 

Allura recalls letting her father go for the last time, when his Artificial Intelligence had been corrupted, and closes her eyes.

 

She can make the tough decisions, even when they are the hardest to bear, and she can live with them. Keith can too.

 

But Keith has never had a family before now. He knows when best to take chances and when best to stand back. He knows what’s best for the whole and what’s best for the individual, and he evaluates them before making his decisions. He can be reckless and rash, and maybe his actions are seen as stupid by some, brave by others, but he sits behind his wall of reason all the same, even if most others cannot see it.

 

But Keith has never had a family, and so he cannot reconcile his logic with his new sense of belonging. He needs to learn what it means to exist alongside others, and he still has a long way to go.

 

“But what if Zarkon finds out about it? About me?”

 

She jumps at his sudden comment, brought back to the reality of their situation.

 

Shifting to reach above her head, she grabs at her mobile device and pulls it into her hands. Clicking a few buttons, she turns it to face Keith. The words ‘DATA DELETED’ flash on the screen and he sucks in a breath.

 

“That was the last copy of the information I had on you. And poof, it’s gone. Zarkon shouldn’t know about you unless you tell him yourself.”

 

“He said I fight like a Galra.”

 

She stills. “What?”

 

“When I fought him, before the wormhole.”

 

Breathing a great sigh, she sets her device beside her and resumes combing through Keith’s hair.

 

“He was trying to intimidate you.”

 

He jerks up out of her reach, turning to face her fully.

 

“I know that,” he spits, and Allura tilts her head as she watches him fume. The anger in Keith’s being has been rekindled, and while it’s aimed in Allura’s direction, she knows it isn’t meant for her. It’s calming, almost, to know that he’s returning to a more familiar irritable state.

 

“But it’s just frustrating, because he was right.”

 

Allura goes to protest, but Keith cuts her off.

 

“Maybe he already knows. Whatever. It’s not important. All we need to know is how to take him down.”

 

Allura smiles. There’s her determined paladin.

 

“This probably also explains the quintessence thing.”

 

That makes her start, and she narrows her eyes dangerously.

 

“What quintessence thing?”

 

“Ah,” he says, biting his lip. So this is something he has been keeping secret, she surmises. “It kind of spilled all over me that one time, when I was fighting—”

 

“What?” Her mouth agape, she recalls how Pidge had described Zarkon’s reserve of quintessence in detail. At the time the knowledge was worrisome, but Keith’s side of the story is doubly so. “Why didn’t you tell us? Have you been having any side effects? What kind of quintessence was it? ”

 

“Uh...the yellow kind?”

 

“ _Keith_.”

 

“All right, all right, calm down!” He pulls on his gloves, a nervous habit that Allura does not fail to notice.

 

“I don’t know what kind it was, but it’s important. Otherwise Zarkon wouldn’t want it. And I guess I didn’t tell you because...it wasn’t really important? We had everything to deal with afterwards, and then the wormhole, and then…” He trails off, holding his hands up and moving them about with a small grunt. The gesture is as vague as it is telling, and Allura pinches her nose to halt the oncoming headache.

 

She sort of regrets deleting all of Keith’s data now, but she calms herself down knowing that if something detrimental was occurring within Keith’s body because of it, the system would have alerted her to it instantly.

 

“That’s the kind of thing you should really tell us about when it happens. Quintessence is powerful, but it can also be dangerous. You saw what happened to Lance.”

 

Impressions of Lance flash in Allura’s head, images of him smiling and joking intermingled with images of him in his more recent serious moments, describing the quiet voices that only he can hear in his head. Keith looks to be sobered by similar thoughts.

 

“I’m sorry. I forgot about it, and it hasn’t really done anything to me. But I’m fine, really.”

 

“You have your heritage to thank for that. Both Galra and Alteans are highly attuned to the substance.”

 

He gulps but doesn’t prod at the answer, and Allura considers that one step closer to acceptance. It’s his next statement that makes Allura truly certain that he’ll be all right.

 

“And yet Lance is the one who can use his bayard like that. I can’t believe he actually made a sword.”

 

She barks out a laugh at his bitter tone.

 

“What are you, jealous?”

 

“No! It was…” _Scary_ , he seems to think, but doesn’t voice. Allura can agree. A beat of silence follows before Keith shakes the emotion off, continuing at a louder volume.

 

“He could have at least chosen something original. I already have a sword,” he grumbles.

 

“I don’t know if he had much choice,” she remarks. “And his is plenty original. It’s slimmer than yours.”

 

The events leading up to the bayard’s transformation were gruesome to say the least, but the ensuing arguments over ‘whose sword is cooler’ managed to soften the harsh memory.

 

“Whatever,” Keith grumbles, but there is no bite behind the word. “I don’t care.”

 

 _Oh, but you do_ , she thinks, _and it makes me happy_.

 

They talk about stupid things for a while longer, before Allura finally pushes Keith in the direction of his bedroom. She promises to say nothing to the others, and he looks at her with raw gratitude.

 

He’s still confused and scared, but he is learning.

 

Allura feels the same.

-

 

As instructed, the paladins arrive after breakfast to receive their results. Keith stands on the periphery, tense but not uncomfortably so. Allura gives him a small smile when he joins them, and he returns it in full, even if the expression is a bit shaky.

 

After a while, the information that Coran and Allura have collected becomes too complex for Keith, Lance, and Shiro to understand, so they settle on quietly conversing among themselves. Or in Lance’s case, making different animal noises until Keith tells him to shut up. Their argument is a constant hum in the background, but the noise is not completely unwelcome. It’s not until Lance is speaking directly at Allura that she notices that it stopped in the first place.

 

“What about Keith’s data?” Lance asks innocently enough, eyeing Allura’s console curiously. She thinks she sees a glint of understanding in his eyes, but it’s gone before she can fully comprehend it.

 

“Hmm, that’s strange,” Coran says in response, typing away at his console. The response solidifies the attention of the rest of the room. “There isn’t any.”

 

Keith’s eyes widen in alarm, so Allura steps forward to offer explanation.

 

“Oh, ah, there was a malfunction with the system last night. Keith’s data didn’t run through. I apologize, Keith.”

 

Keith doesn’t argue with the rushed explanation. He can choose to speak up, to explain exactly _why_  he doesn’t have any visible data, but he remains silent. Allura can’t come to judge him for his decision. While the previous night with her gave him a bit of comfort, she knows he must fully come to terms with the knowledge before sharing the information with the other paladins.

 

That doesn’t help the suspicion, however.

 

Coran seems a bit slow to accept Allura’s explanation, but he trusts the princess implicitly, so he does not argue. Pidge and Hunk tilt their heads in confusion, but respond with the least resistance. Shiro looks between Keith and Allura with skepticism, but his expression does not hold ill intent.

 

Keith’s fear that Shiro won’t handle the Galra reveal well is palpable, and Allura can only offer Keith support as he moves forward. Shiro is who Allura _expected_  to worry about, because of his past and because of the many scars, mental and physical, that the Galra left on him.

 

 _Lance_ , on the other hand, is a wild card.

 

“That’s a shame,” Lance finally says, carefully neutral. “I suppose we’ll never know Keith’s true colors.”

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Keith throws back, his voice tinged with mild panic. Shiro’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and Allura swallows hard.

 

“Lance, come on. Chill,” Hunk says as he looks up from Coran’s computer. “Give the guy a break.”

 

“Yeah,” Pidge says, not even taking the time to look up from her own screen. “You’re being more insensitive than usual, and that’s saying a lot.”

 

Lance’s smile widens and he opens his mouth, ready to deliver a snappy comeback, when his eyes lose focus and he stops. The moment is subtle, easily missed to those who are not trained to watch, but it does not go unnoticed by those in the room. They’re wired to it nowadays.

 

It’s a reminder that Lance hasn’t fully assimilated his lion’s consciousness into his own.

 

“Ah,” he finally says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “You’re right. Sorry Keith. That sucks about your data. I hope you figure things out soon.”

 

Lance’s words are laced with double meanings, and it doesn’t take a genius to notice it. Shiro is drilling his eyes into Keith with his signature _we will talk about this later and you will not run from me_  stare. Even Keith, normally oblivious to more complicated social cues, seems to realize what is being said behind Lance’s cover.

 

But Lance retreats and the buzz of the room gently resumes, and when Allura meets Lance’s gaze, her own inquisitive, his suggestive in unexpected ways, Allura understands.

 

 _Those damn lions_.

 

She stares Lance down with icy solemnity. When all backs are turned, she mouths to him, _not one word_.

 

He simply shrugs and instead of winking, or sticking his tongue out, or bursting out in some flirty comment, he smiles, genuinely. She takes that as her invitation to walk him over to the far corner of the room, and she gestures for Keith to follow. In a maneuver that even she finds cruel, she redirects Shiro away from their trio by asking Coran to explain that one theory on deoxyribose sugars that he loves so much.

 

She feels a bit guilty when she see Shiro’s slightly pained and trapped expression, but it doesn’t stop her from taking advantage of the diversion.

 

With her voice low so that no one but the three of them can hear, she addresses Lance.

 

“What do you know?”

 

“Nothing,” he says honestly. “Nothing specific, at least. But you found something, didn’t you?”

 

“Lance,” Keith growls, but Allura holds a hand in front of him before a shouting match erupts, lest it draws attention to their impromptu meeting.

 

“It’s none of your business,” Keith finally mutters, seething.

 

“Dude, I know. I’m totally against this whole digging through our DNA thing, believe me. But man, Red’s worried about you.”

 

“What?” Keith recoils, nonplussed, and Allura blinks in her own surprise.

 

“Like, you totally need to talk to him yourself because I am an awful wingman, believe me, but I know he feels for you. A lot.”

 

“He’s—it’s a giant robot lion. It doesn’t have feelings.”

 

Lance raises a disbelieving brow. “And that, my friend, is where you are wrong. They totally feel. An ungodly amount, even. They’re really old and they’ve got years of baggage behind them to feel sappy about. More than we do.”

 

“The red lion never tells me anything.” Keith bristles, but his expression is not completely closed off. He’s interested, as much as he tries to hide it.

 

Allura is fascinated with Lance’s words as well. Her life force may be tied to the lions, but she’s never in direct communication with them. It wouldn’t hurt to hear Lance out.

 

“Because you never listen. Look,” Lance says, drawing close and lowering his voice to a whisper. “He really wants to talk to you. But you’re so caught up in your own drama that you can’t even see it.”

 

Allura thinks it’s time to interject, before Keith retaliates with an indignant comment.

 

“Lance, just let it go,” she sighs. Keith shouldn’t feel pressured to say anything simply because he’s angry. It goes against her own logic, but it falls right beneath Keith’s banner of reckless reason.

 

“You know what?” Keith says, and there is the expected indignant comment. Allura stares at the ceiling with barely contained frustration. Whatever Lance’s angle is, it’s coming at a bad time.

 

“Shut up Lance. You don’t know anything about me, and you don’t know anything about where I come from.”

 

“No,” Lance says, voice soft and eyebrows drawn. “I don’t. But I want to know.”

 

It’s this flash of emotion deep in Lance, this sign of how deeply he cares for his other teammates, that throws her off. He’s being pushy, he knows, but he also believes in the benefits of his endgame.

 

And he is trying to build trust, as oddly as he’s going about it.

 

Allura bites her lip, keen to witness what will transpire next. Keith’s own expression melts into shock, and then blankness, and then resolution. Following a hard swallow, he speaks.

 

“I’m part Galra. That’s what my results said.”

 

A pause, and then Lance is off.

 

“You’re part Galra?” he gasps, his voice low but energetic. “That’s so awesome!”

 

“That is not awesome. That’s the furthest thing from awesome. That is the least awesome you could possibly get!”

 

Allura wants to correct Keith, but the ‘fight’ needs to run it’s course, as juvenile as it’s become. Keith has just revealed something extremely personal, and she wonders how Lance has managed to dig it out of him so quickly.

 

“No, but think about it,” Lance says. “ _That’s_  why you could feel Blue, all the way back on earth.”

 

“What?” Keith blinks, visibly appalled by the non sequitur.

 

“You’re obviously connected to the lions somehow already. It’s probably because you’re a Galra,” Lance thinks aloud, eyes darting back and forth as he speaks.

 

“Don’t just say it so casually!”

 

“Actually, that might be because of his other side,” Allura says thoughtfully. Keith balks and Lance looks confused but intrigued, and she clamps both hands to her mouth in horror at what she has unwittingly revealed.

 

Keith doesn’t seem dismayed, however, but simply resigned, and Allura feels a bit of relief when he turns to Lance and explains, “I’m also half Altean. It’s why I look like this.” He swoops his hands up and down, gesturing to himself.

 

Lance at this point looks like a kid in a candy store, and it’s obviously unnerving Keith, who most likely expected anger and rejection. In all honesty, Allura expected a negative reaction as well, and Lance’s immediate acceptance is strange and comforting.

 

“Allura,” Lance finally addresses her directly, and Keith squeaks in protest. “Do you know what that means?”

 

She knows exactly what it means, and it warms her heart that Lance sees it too. It’s touching, despite his childlike excitement, that he realizes where this information takes them.

 

“Wait,” Lance whirls wildly around again, staring at the other end of the room, where Shiro looks bored out of his mind and where Hunk and Pidge are still typing away with Coran. None of them have noticed the gravity of the trio’s conversation, although Shiro glances over every so often with barely contained curiosity.

 

“Do you want to tell them?” Lance says, voice serious.

 

“No, and I didn’t want to tell you, either.”

 

“It is your decision to make,” Allura reminds him, placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort. Lance nods in agreement, and Keith sighs.

 

“I will tell them, one day. I promise. If you…” he hesitates and looks Allura in the eyes, and Allura realizes why as the vulnerability of his next sentence becomes apparent.

 

“Would you be there with me?”

 

The importance of that statement hits Allura, and her expression softens. As she forms her response, she watches Keith’s eyes flicker across the room to Shiro in his anxiety, and Allura can guess what worries are going through his head.

 

The very fact that he is asking not to be alone, however, is progressive.

 

Loner Keith, orphan Keith, pariah Keith, alien Keith—they are all facets of his personality, all aspects that enforce his terrible isolation. But they are not his only defining features.

 

The fact that he is requesting not to be alone means that red paladin Keith, friend Keith, and family Keith, are all growing parts of him.

 

Allura can’t help but smile, and she tugs on his arm to return his focus to her.

 

“Of course I will be there with you, Keith. To the very end.”

 

“Me too,” Lance nods, wrapping an arm around Keith’s shoulder to pull him into a side hug. Keith’s eyes widen in surprise at the action, but he doesn’t protest it.

 

As Lance drags Keith back to where the others are gathered, she notices Shiro’s look of surprise at the younger boys’ close contact and Keith’s reluctance to break it.

 

She hangs back a bit and ponders, once again, what Keith being alive means for them. Because if an Altean and a Galra can learn to coexist in today's day, if the universe’s two great enemies can learn to love a child of both peoples, then surely miracles can happen. Surely families grow and change. Surely nothing is irreparable.

 

Allura has never really believed in miracles. Success and happiness come from blazing energy and hard work, not the pure glow of soft hope.

 

But maybe she can pretend for a while, and maybe Keith can too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have an idea of how I would want to continue this, so we’ll see what happens. Thanks for reading!


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